The Day You Look Around Yourself and See the World at Peace
by rioludoodle
Summary: Germany and England of World War One in 1916 are suddenly dropped nearly fifty years into the future - 1962. They want to know what happened in that timeframe, but what they discover is that the world has changed. For the better or for the worse? History is not kind. In the midst of the Cold War and the aftermath of World War Two, the future is uncertain. But perhaps... someday...


**AN: **This story is an idea that just popped into my head while I was half asleep, and so I just had to write it. It's also a very short break from my main (and at this point, only other) Hetalia story, _International_. If you like this one, go check out _International_. Anyway, this is my best attempt at writing something vaguely meaningful (after the drunken England and Germany bit) too, so please don't poke too much fun of me if it turns out awful.

* * *

_**The Day You Look Around Yourself and See the World at Peace**_

_August 14th, 1961 _

It was a cloudy day in London. And in a small, usually clean, brick apartment building, two nations were drinking themselves silly at mid-day. The living room, normally so spick-and-span and tidy you'd think it was an old lady's place, was a mess. Empty bottles were strewn across the floor, pillows were scattered randomly where they'd been tossed in fits of rage, and two kitchen chairs were wobbling across from each other with a table in between them. Sagging on the chairs, with their heads listlessly greeting the table and their hands wrapped around beer bottles, were England and Germany.

Or, as far as the land-lady was concerned, Arthur Kirkland and Ludwig Beilschmidt.

England had picked up Germany in Berlin, or rather, West Berlin, early in the midnight hours that day, and brought the suffering man back to the UK. He needed a bit of time away. When they'd arrived at the Brit's apartment, the first thing Germany did was kick over furniture in his search for the liquor cabinet. England would've protested, but he couldn't help but feel like doing the same. The two soon found themselves sitting across from each other in the living room while guzzling down alcohol like it was water in the Sahara.

A shameful display, but one rather justifiable, if you knew what had started in Germany not two nights ago.

Construction.

Of the Berlin Wall.

The border between East and West Berlin had been closed by Sunday morning on the 13th of August. Soldiers lined up with their guns and their uniforms and their orders to prevent anyone from crossing. Then, East German troops and workers started ripping apart the streets along that border. They were all to be made vehicle _unfriendly_. And then, the barbed wire and fences were beginning to be put up. They were still being put up. Berlin, already rendered into East and West, Communist and Capitalist, was being further split apart by a barrier.

Germany was fine, physically, since he technically only represented West Germany. But there was an ache in his heart and a terror in his mind that no amount of alcohol could ease.

The socialist/communist party wasn't letting anyone go. And if they were putting up a wall in Berlin, what about the rest of the country? East and West Berlin, what about East and West Germany? What about Gilbert and Ludwig? What about brother and brother? That was his family on the other side of the wall. He rarely saw Prussia anymore as it was, Russia having taken him. But with the wall in place, with the border restrictions... Would they ever see each other again?

Those were the thoughts running through his head as Germany tried to drink himself into blissful oblivion. And England had joined him, though much slower since the Brit's tolerance was so low. By the point they were at, the both of them were confessing their sorrows in a drunken haze.

"I... I don' know wha's goin' t' happen..." Germany, half-dead with his head in his arms, mumbled. "_Mein Gott_, I'm sorry. *hic* _Es tut mir leid._ 'm sorry, 'm sorry , 'm sorry... Worl' War Two... should'n 'ave... *hic*... 'm sorry..."

England slurred back in reply after taking another swig from his bottle. "Wha' 'appened *hic* 'appened. Jus' go on wi' l'fe."

"That's the problem!" Germany, angry at everything and nothing now, shouted back clearly, slamming a fist on the table. "I don't know... I don' know wha's going on... *hic*... The future..." He trailed off and went back to cradling his head.

England, far more drunk and delirious than Germany, perked up with the thought of a brilliant drunken idea. "I know! *hic* I'll use... *hic* magic! Sen' us off t' the future! We'll see *hic* wha' 'appens!"

"Tha's stupid..." Germany mumbled back.

But twenty minutes later found him with England in the apartment basement. England had a shaky magic circle scrawled on the ground, and seven candles lit around it, though one had fallen over. England was dressed in his favorite black cloak and was drowsily flipping through the pages of an ancient book. Germany was stumbling half-conscious next to him.

"Here *hic* we go..." England said, pausing on a page. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rather old-fashioned, silver, circuar pocket watch. After flipping it open, he threw it haphazardly into the magic circle, where it landed with a clatter, face open.

He began chanting.

_"Mitto *hic* nosotros... uh, from parelthón... *hic*... to... futurum"_

The magic circle glowed, and the candle flames grew to impossible heights. The light grew stronger...Brighter... blinding... and then... it died out. Nothing seemed to be changed.

"B*llocks." England swore. And then, he finally collapsed from exhaustion and alcohol. Germany, likewise drunk and discombobulated, fell on top of the smaller man.

Neither of them were awake to see the pocket watch glow as words in ancient Gallifreyan were carved into the cover. They didn't see the luminescent mist sneak inside and shut its clasp. But when England awoke with a hangover and sorted out his memories, he would pale, look at the watch, and swear.

"Bugger."

* * *

_April 21st, 1916 _

England sat behind a desk with a map of Europe spread out in front of him. He'd just returned from the war front, and was currently trying to strategize. But it was hard. Every time he tried to think about the war, the Great War, memories of the bullets and the guns and the dead would fill his mind. Blood and death and mass destruction on a scale never seen before. That was modern warfare. It used to be that you'd march on and fire until one side gave up. Now, there were war machines, and transports, and bombs, and guns that could do more damage than an entire regiment could in the past. So much red and death and war... What was the point of it? Any of it? What abysmal fate awaited?

He slammed his head against the desk in frustration, ready to tear his hair out. And then, suddenly, there was a flash of light, and the chair was empty.

Far far away, in an isolated tent on the war front, Germany was lost in his thoughts as he pulled on his boots. There was so much to do in the war... Find soldiers, train them, mobilize them. Find weapons, ship them out. Make better weapons, find more allies, keep the U.S.A. neutral. And all the strategy and all the guessing... it was hard, but it was necessary. He stood and brushed himself off, double-checking his uniform before reaching for his gun and helmet. But before he could touch them, there was a bright flash of light inside the tent, and then, there was no one there.

* * *

_October 28th, 1962 - Somewhere in the U.S.A._

There was a bright flash of light in a cozy, but simplistic living room. England found himself standing behind a couch. And next to him... was Germany! The island nation immediately lashed out at the mainland country, kicking at his gut. But, having been on the edge, Germany leaped back in time to avoid it. The taller blond rebounded towards his enemy, reaching out to wring England's neck.

"Woah, woah, woah, HOLD IT!" A voice familiar to England shouted.

Both fighting countries suddenly froze where they stood and realized that they didn't know where they were. Or how they got there. They whipped around to see a person standing in an entryway to the room. Tall, sandy-blond, wearing glasses and a bomber jacket. America. England and Germany were both relieved by and slightly wary of his presence. He was a neutral country after all. But then again, it was only America, the nation barely out of isolationism. They both relaxed into more natural positions as the American approached them cautiously. Neither of them wanted to be so close to each other at the moment, but it wouldn't be fair for one of them to move away, so they stayed where they were.

America came up to stand in front of them. He looked both Europeans up and down.

He said to himself absentmindedly. "Wow. I wasn't sure I believed it... the first World Wa- I mean, the Great War."

"Excuse me." Germany ground out derisively. He wanted his questions answered now, even if it was by a strange, potential enemy country across the Atlantic. "I'd like to know where I am, how, and why. Also, why is _he_ here?" He rudely thumbed at England.

The Brit, dressed militarily, stiffened aggresively at the gesture, but remained civilized for the sake of their apparent host.

America sighed wearily, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that suggested he'd been sitting down for a while. Then, he looked up again and met both high-handed gazes with a smile.

"Well, I dunno if you're gonna believe this, but..." He laughed. "Haha! Time travel! Welcome to the future, dudes!"

"_Pardon me._" Germany crossed his arms stubbornly. "But that is completely-"

"Plausible." England cut him off. The bushy-browed Brit looked contemplatively around the room. There were strange things all around. What looked like a _small_ radio, something box-shaped with a glass screen, a device on the wall shaped like what he knew as a telephone... And ignoring all that, England could feel what seemed like a irremovable time-travel spell cast on something in America's pocket. The spell had his own signature on it. England's future self was to blame for this incident, apparently.

England spoke up again, accusatory and demanding, directed at his ex-colony. "That's one of my spells in your pocket."

America looked surprised at the statement, but pulled out an old-fashioned pocket watch from his jacket to show them. It was silver in color, and the lid was open. There was an elaborate carving of lines and circles on the cover. Inside, it was ticking at the time 12:03.

"Yeah, I guess it is." America said. He slipped the watch back inside his pocket. He said to England with a shrug. "You gave it to me, Iggy."

England was disbelieving. He snorted and crossed his arms, scathingly replying. "I doubt I'd give something with an unstable time-travel spell on it to _you_ of all people."

"But you did!" America protested, whining.

England harshly refuted. "Why?"

"I dunno!" America responded, throwing his hands in the air. "You said something weird about not being able to undo it, a twelve-hour timer, and a memory thing!"

England looked surprised now. He seemed to be reconsidering his thoughts.

Meanwhile, Germany grew more and more irritated. He shouted out, interrupting England's thoughts. "Can we focus on the important thing here?! If this is really time travel, then _WHEN _exactly, ARE WE?!"

America answered nonchalantly. "October 28th, 1962!"

Both England and Germany were shocked. They were nearly half a century into the future! What had happened in all that time, how would they get back, and most of all-... who won the war?

England spoke up first, thoughtfully, though he wasn't wondering about history. "You said there was... a memory thing? And something about twelve hours?"

"Yeah, you said the watch'd take away your memories of here when you get sent back in twelve hours." America responded.

England looked thoughtful again. Then, before he could speak up again, Germany asked. "If we're not going to remember and it won't interfere with time... can you tell us a few things?"

America nodded.

"Who won the war?"

"World War One? The Allies." Then, his eyes widened at the slip-up and he slapped a hand over his mouth.

Both Germany and England, despite being enemies, were of the same horrified opinion. Simultaneously, they gasped. "World War... _One_?"

The horrible, anticipatory silence of dread overcame them.

Germany broke it first. "There were... more?"

The thought was a nightmarish one. More? More of that kind of war? That bloodthirsty, never-ending cycle? More killing, more guns, more planes and trenches and tanks... More death and blood and battle? Modern warfare was a brutal affair, and both sides of the Great War- no, _World War One_ - were sick of it already. But it went on and on and on... Even if the Allies somehow pulled a victory over the Central Powers... Who could possibly be insane enough to start another war? Or possibly another after that?

"Uh..." America wracked his brain for a way to explain without panicking the two anachronisms in front of him. Trying to calm them, he said. "Well... it's only just been one more up to now."

Germany mumbled softly. "World War One and... World War Two..."

"The Allies won the second one too..." America added in hopefully. "But the countries that were the Allies were a little different. France, England, and-... Um, the Triple Entente were Allies in both wars." A clever explanation. The truth, but worded so that those hearing it wouldn't assume that Germany had been the villain and the loser in both wars as well.

But that hope flew out the window like a bird out of a cage. Germany demanded to know, serious and soldier-like. "Which side was I on in the second war?" When America didn't reply right away, he raised a fist threateningly, shouting. "Tell me!"

America met the German's eyes steadfastly with a steel resolve that neither England nor Germany expected from such a young country. He coldly stated. "The losing one." But then, his expression softened again, and he looked sympathetic. With nervous pause, he tried to elaborate gently. "The Allies... took control after World War Two. Split your country into East and West... dissolved Prussia... France and England were loaded with debt... two new superpowers, er - powerful countries - from the Allies came out of the war... a lot of stuff happened."

He saw the grieving expression on Germany's face and then rapidly finished explaining. "No, but don't worry! Prussia's still alive, he's like, East Germany now!"

Germany's guilt eased a little after hearing that, but still he sighed wearily at his inevitable fate.

England spoke wryly. "Well, hearing all this, I can see why I gave that watch to you instead of keeping it or sensibly giving it to the world powers. With your stubborn, goody-goody isolationism, it wasn't likely we'd run into anyone with a grudge whenever we happened to pop up."

"Isolationism?" America looked at him oddly. "Dude, I gave up on all of that after the second World War. Kinda had to. I miss it sometimes... Anyway, what do you guys want to do? I'm just supposed to keep you out of trouble until you pop back home, so anything goes as long as it doesn't wind up with you guys fighting."

"How much longer do we have?" England asked immediately.

America took out the pocket watch once more and glanced at the open face. It read 12:11. He tucked it away again. "About eleven hours and fifty minutes." He told them.

Germany had a suggestion that was more like a demand. "You can tell us about current events." He looked stubborn.

America's expression darkened with a scowl, which surprised both Germany and England. He'd always been so cheerful and carefree, lighthearted about everything. What could possibly be happening in the world?

"You dudes picked a h*ll of a time to show up. We're in the middle of a war."

* * *

_October 28th, 1962_

America had refused to say anything more after that. Instead, he'd led them to the kitchen and tried to distract them with food, setting a heavy plate of hamburgers down on the dining table. England and Germany had sat down and taken one each out of courtesy, but neither was really interested in lunch. Rather, they were both demanding to know what was happening in the world at the moment.

"What the bloody h*ll do you mean we're at war?!" England screeched.

Germany, though more composed, was no less angry at being denied the information he wanted. He slammed a fist on the table, shouting. "I want to know, and Britain wants to know. We are leading world powers, and if we want something, _gott_, we're going to get it!"

America, from his position across from them, looked uncharacteristically furious. His hands were on top of the table, clenched into tight fists.

He started speaking at a low volume. "Were. You _were_ world powers." With each word, America's voice grew louder. "Then, World War Two came around and now you're just another part of Europe." He raised one hand and then slammed it down with enough force to crack the dense wood. "You fell from the top. Today, there are two superpowers in the world, and one of them is the freakin' Soviet Union, which is basically a bunch of smaller commie countries, and, oh yeah, _RUSSIA_!"

That was a shocking announcement. And it terrified the two nations out of time. Russia was strong in the time they came from. And he was insane. Everyone knew he'd been a little off since he was a child, but Bloody Sunday in 1905 had made something really _snap_ inside him. The massacre had set something spinning the wrong gears in his mind, and now, Russia was a very strong, but also very disturbed, country. England and Germany didn't want to imagine what Russia did with his power in 1962 after coming out on top of the world.

"Say, America..." England asked the obvious question. "Who's the other 'superpower', as you call it, then?"

America let go of his short-lasting rage and slumped down in his chair. He sighed wearily, and answered without meeting anyone's eyes. "Does it matter? The two world superpowers are fighting a cold war. _The_ Cold War."

"The..." Germany stumbled over the strange phrase. "Cold War?"

"What exactly does that mean, America?" England demanded to know.

America looked up again, meeting their gazes, confused. "The whole d*mn world knows what it is, how- Oh, right, time travel." He sighed again. "You're lucky. You get to go back home and forget all about this. I'm stuck here."

"Alright, you little brat, explain to us _now_ what this 'Cold War' is." England scowled.

Germany grunted his assent with the command.

America took a deep breath and then let it out. It was frustrating how his two guests just kept demanding to know more when they'd only forget the whole nightmare at the end. When England had given him that watch, claiming it would one day drag past versions of Germany and England into the future, he'd told America to try to not reveal anything shocking, even if they'd forget. So much for that, at this point. He grudgingly explained. "The war started pretty much right after World War Two ended. And it's the Cold War because neither side wants to fight directly."_  
_

"How the h*ll is it a war then?!" Germany exclaimed.

America ignored the interruption and kept talking. "It's a war through proxy wars and competitions. Arms races, and funding different sides of civil wars in other countries, and of course there's the Space Race. Russia got a man into space first, and now the finish line's the moon. It's all still going on."

There was a stunned silence. World War One was bad, with all the destruction caused by modern warfare... but this method of war in the future? It would take enormous resources and a whole lot of resentment.

Then, England asked, pale. "How... How is it that they can do all that... But not fight each other face to face?"

"It's certainly intriguing." Germany agreed with a morbid curiosity.

"Because of the weapons they have. They can't risk using them." America responded listlessly.

England raised a skeptical eyebrow and then replied. "And what weapons are those?"

America couldn't meet their eyes when he answered. There was a slow, sad, and mournful lilt to his tone of voice. "When World War Two mostly ended with surrender in Europe... Japan, on the losing side, kept fighting. The superpower who wasn't Russia had developed a- a weapon... he had it dropped over the city Hiro-... Hiroshima. It... It was a nuclear bomb, and I'm not going to explain what that means, but... It was nicknamed 'Little Boy'... And... it killed somewhere between 90,000 and a 160,000 people. Civilians."

Two pairs of eyes widened in horror and astonishment. How... How could a single bomb, no matter its explosive power, kill that many in one fell swoop? It was impossible. It had to be impossible. It _should _be impossible. And to destroy a city with civilians like that... Who could possibly have made that terrible, weighted decision? The other power in this future world, whoever he was? A decision like that was a monstrosity.

And then America went on speaking. "There was a second bomb." His voice cracked. "Three days after Hiroshima... 'Fat Man' was dropped on Nagasaki. It killed... between 60,000 and 80,000. On August ninth, 1945. It ended... It ended the war. Japan signed the surrender. I visited him in the hospital later... It was awful." He seemed to be nearly crying, and Germany and England could only feel like joining him, though they remained stoic, if shocked and horrified.

"_Gomen nasai, Nihon. Totemo... zan'nendesu._" America had closed his eyes and whispered the foreign words with such regret that Germany and England could only assume...

"It's alright, America. We all support bad decisions sometimes." England said, patting his ex-colony's hand.

Though Germany wasn't familiar with comforting people, he tried his best. "Ah, yes... Er, we've all made mistakes. But it's the fault of whichever nation it was who developed that bomb, not yours."

America stiffened. They didn't think it was him. From their point of view, he was still only America the barely out of isolationism, America the neutral nation, America the naive little upstart kid functioning on the Monroe Doctrine. He wasn't sure whether to be grateful or offended. In the end, he decided to just let it go, and relaxed again.

"But wait!" England suddenly came to a realization. "You mean- You mean to say that these future nations... these bloody 'superpowers', one of whom is _Russia_, have _MORE _weapons like those- those bombs?"

"Yes."

Germany and England were shell-shocked.

"How..." Germany stumbled over the words. "If they hate each other enough to build all these w-weapons... How have they not used them yet?"

"It's MAD." America replied.

England exclaimed. "I'll say it's mad! They're going to destroy the whole d*mn world!"

Germany muttered. "Madness indeed..."

"No, you got it wrong." America shook his head. He clarified his earlier statement. "It's MAD. M-A-D. Mutually Assured Destruction. If one side uses their weapons, the other does the same, and the whole world goes ka-blam! No one wants that, and that's why w- _they_ don't fight directly!"

There was a moment of silence for the absolute horror and irony of the statement.

Then, Germany said. "I still say it's madness."

"The name is fitting." Was all the Brit had to say.

Conversation stopped for a few minutes. The three seated at the table took that time to eat the food in front of them, most of it scarfed down by America, though Germany was actually a close second after having lived off of German military rations for so long. When the plate was empty, their host wordlessly took it away and then came back with several glasses and a pitcher of lemonade on a tray. He set them down and poured each of them a glass of the sour-sweet drink.

While they sipped at it slowly, the awkward, silent tension between the three, most particularly England and Germany, settled a little. The previous topic of discussion was ignored in favor of more casual ones that were only slightly strange because of the anachronistic nature of the two Europeans.

"So, how's my future self, Alfred?" England asked, forgoing the formalities.

America brightened at the change in topic. "You're still the same as ever! Haven't changed a bit, except for the whole falling empire thing, uh..." At England's crestfallen face, he added. "But you've still got your confidence! Just not, uh, around a few people."

"What about my self?" Germany interjected his question.

"You're... uh..." America blanched. The answer wasn't exactly a good one.

England pushed for a response. "Just tell the wanker already. He's a big bloke, he can take it. I want to know too."

America still hesitated. But then he caved. "You're... kinda a mess."

"What?" Germany was surprised and yet not. Still, he had to find out. "How?"

There was a brief pause and a moment to think of a proper way to word the response, and then. "I... Well, in a way, it's like the perfect representation of the Iron Curtain."

"..." No sound for a moment, and then England said. "You never mentioned this Iron Curtain before." His tone was one of worry and dread. Very justifiable feelings, considering everything they'd just recently learned.

America didn't respond.

"_V__erdeutlichen_, America." Germany demanded darkly. "Explain. Now. We might not be from this time, but we have our might from the first World War and we can-"

The American cut him off with a strained, harsh, and emotional bark of laughter. "HA! You can what? By this time tomorrow, you won't remember. Iggy said 'Nothing more than wisps of deja vu'. The only one who won't forget this is me, and then it might as well not've happened at all!" His words were cruel and biting, obviously venting frustration from another source. Then, coldly, he stated. "Besides, I can take you both..."

Before the darker connotations of that last sentence could be processed, America resigned himself to being a historical tour guide. He gave in. "But, I'm not gonna fight. If you dudes want to hear it, I'll tell you all 'bout the Iron Curtain."

"Right." England spat back bitterly, the fact that he was going to lose his memories suddenly more real. "Because we're just going to forget anyway."

The youngest at the table softened his gaze when the British Empire bristled at his comments. "Sorry, Iggy. It's just..." He sighed, world-weary. "There's something big going on right now. Cuban Missile Crisis. It's a lot of stress." He waved it off.

"Anyway," He began, downcast. "The Iron Curtain is... well, it's the barrier in Europe between the commies in the east and everyone else in the west."

"Is this barrier metaphorical or physical?" Germany questioned.

"Both." America replied. With an ironic grimace, he continued. "And it's really bad at your place especially. There's an East Germany and a West Germany. Russia's holding your bro on the east side against his will... And you're just kinda moping around. Your old capitol's a tension point. They built a freakin' wall through Berlin!" He threw his hands in the air, frustrated at recent events.

Germany fell silent. The knowledge he gained was of something horrible that would happen to him in the future. And because he'd forget... it was inevitable. Germany had an awful lot left to live for, didn't he? He had World War One to look forward to at home, World War Two to lose after that, and then some godforsaken Cold War to see tear his life apart.

_'Gott in Himmel...' _He thought to himself in quiet horror. _'What is this world going to come to?'_

Surprisingly, the youngest among them voiced Germany's thoughts. "I... What's gonna happen tomorrow if _this_ is today?" America shook his head with a grimace. "I mean, there's been a lot of tension between the dudes in charge, but right now... The missile crisis." He slammed his head on the table.

"Alfred... What, exactly, is this missile crisis you keep mentioning?" England asked, his mouth a stern line and his eyes grave.

America lifted his head from the table and sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot. He explained the situation. "The Cuban Missile Crisis..." He muttered darkly. "The Soviets put nukes in Cuba. They're aimed at me. Russia and Cuba are on one side arguing against m- The other superpower. Negotiations are looking like they're gonna fall through. And that might mean nuclear winter."

_'He keeps skirting around the topic of this other country with the world in his hands... this other superpower.' _Germany began to wonder. _'Does America - no, Alfred, that's his name - know him personally? He must, if Russia is aiming these weapons at him.'_

"That's not even close to fair!" England exclaimed, he looked furious. "Hardly direct, pointing these bloody missiles at you instead of- of - whoever it is!"

A strange, unfamiliar smile of irony and dark amusement stretched it's way across America's face. The youngest nation laughed hysterically. "HAHA-HAHA!" He doubled over. "AHAHA!"

"Oh, you wanker!" England didn't take well to being laughed at. He reached over the tabletop and pulled America to his feet by the collar. "Why are you _laughing_ at this?!"

America's fit of coping laughter died down into breathless gasps. "AHA- ha... aha... It's just..." He shook his head exasperatedly and pushed England's arms away. Raising a hand to his face, he wiped away a laughing tear. "It's just, this is the _most direct_ the war's ever gotten." There was a dark irony to his voice. "There are missiles in Turkey and Italy aimed at Moscow too. If anything this makes it even. Hah!" He grinned widely.

"How can you smile when you're used as a pawn in this war?! Those missiles could seriously harm you, if not kill you!" Germany shouted.

A wry grimace replaced the false grin. "Well, the thing is..." He spoke quietly. "I'm hardly a pawn. The other side in the Cold War, the one against the Soviets... I-"

_Knock knock knock._

Knocking on the front door. Three heads turned in the direction of the sound, and America gained a look of stubborn determination on his face as he stood to go answer it. He waved a hand at his guests. "Stay here." An order.

The two nations not in their right time glanced at each other as America turned out the kitchen door. An unspoken conversation passed between them, more amicable than you would've thought considering that they were enemies to each other.

_"Should we follow the wanker?"_

_"It could be something concerning that missile crisis."_

_"Exactly."_

_"Nein, this might be the distant future to us, but this is his life."_

_"It's going to be our lives too, someday."_

And with that, they both slid out of their chairs, stood up straight, and walked out the kitchen door.

* * *

_October 28th, 1962_

England and Germany poked their heads around the corner of a hallway, catching a good view of the entrance. They were close enough to hear everything too. It was an ideal spying position.

In front of the door, there was America. He stood straight and formally, his face expressionless but slightly hostile. And he reached out a hand, grabbed the handle of the door, and pulled it open. Behind the door, there was Russia. England and Germany had to fight the gasps rising into their throats, but managed to remain undetected.

"_Privet_, Amerika." Russia smiled innocently, his hands empty at his sides.

America responded more formally than would've been thought possible of him. "Hello to you too, Soviet Union."

Russia's face darkened, and a shiver went up England's spine. "How do you say it here? Da, 'cut the crap'."

"Fine, SCREW YOU, COMMIE!" America grabbed a megaphone that had randomly, or perhaps purposely, been set on a small table next to the door and shouted through it. Right in Russia's face.

Though rather than reacting violently as England and Germany would've expected, Russia laughed. He seemed honestly entertained.

"Very good to see you as well, Amerika."

"What do you want?" The more direct of the two spat back. He kept a tight grip on the megaphone, though it wouldn't make a very useful weapon if the confrontation came to blows.

"I have a gift for you, comrade." The Russian replied. "I think you will like it, da."

America replied with an innocent question. "Will it be a present like the Berlin blockade? The airlift was lots of fun!"

Russia reached into his coat... And pulled out a piece of paper. England and Germany were too far away to read the small print of the words, but they did catch sight of the two national seals in the corner. The Soviet Union's, and the United States of America's. The two spies were having trouble processing all the implications of what they were seeing. America and Russia, harassing each other both loudly and openly, and with more subtle taunts. They'd been told about the Cold War, the Soviet Union on one side, cutting entire nations off from the rest of the world, another nation against them. And judging from what they were seeing right here... The other nation was the U.S.A.

America came out of World War Two as a superpower. America was taking sides in civil wars around the world. America had nuclear weapons stocked. America was waging a Cold War against the Soviet Union.

"Is better gift than the two you gave Japan." Russia replied smoothly.

America winced at the reminder, but took the paper. He read through it, and his eyes grew wide. "Is this-... Is this for real?" He looked up at Russia with a spark of hope in his eyes.

"Da." Russia nodded.

America cheered with a carefree happiness much more suited to him than anger. "Hah! It's over! It's really over! The Cuban Missile Crisis is over!" He sent the door swinging shut with a careless kick behind him.

_Thunk._

The door was stopped from closing. By a metal waterpipe.

From the outside of the house, you could see Russia on the front doorstep, one arm reaching out with a metal pipe, jamming the bottom of the door so that it wouldn't close. Then, he nudged the door open again with the pipe. And when it swung to give a view of the inside, there was America standing on the other side with a handgun aimed right between Russia's eyes.

The mood was even more antagonistic than before.

Russia chuckled. "Kolkolkol... Very good, Amerika. Don't forget, we are still enemies." He tightened his grip on the pipe.

America's trigger finger twitched. His expression was cold.

"I don't want to shoot you."

"And I do not wish to bludgeon your face inside out."

"It's MAD, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

America's face softened a little, and sadness took the place of icy anger. Seeing the new expression, Russia looked mourning and rueful as well.

"Dude, why are we doing this?"

"We live in different worlds, comrade. That's why."

A shake of the head. "Do we really have to fight because of that?"

A nod. "Da."

"... If we keep going, only one of us is coming out of this on top."

"Da."

Russia slowly relaxed his hold on his pipe, and then tucked the blunt instrument away inside his long coat. He waited for America to put the gun away. The firearm wasn't set down though, instead, the door was slammed shut. Russia was slightly surprised, but simply smiled and walked away.

* * *

_October 28th, 1962_

America put the gun back into his jacket pocket and set the megaphone on a small table next to the door.

He turned around and was shocked to see England and Germany standing in the middle of the hall. Their expressions conveyed a great many emotions. Hurt. Horror. Anger. Dread. Guilt. Fear. None of it was good. They spun on their heels when they realized they were seen in the open and rushed through the nearest door, which led to the same living room they'd popped up in when England's spell had activated. America couldn't face them. But he knew he had to.

_'... Of course,'_ he thought as he glanced at the living room door, _'maybe giving them some time to sort things out is good too.'_

In the living room, England and Germany sat themselves down on opposite ends of the couch. Neither knew what to say, but England gave communication his best shot.

"I'd say this was unexpected..." He shook his head slowly. "But looking back, there've been clues since we arrived."

Germany replied. "This has been too surreal... it's even more so now."

"Should I say it or would you like to?"

"Together on _drei_?"

They began counting.

"Eins." "One."

"Zwei." "Two."

"Drei." "Three."

And simultaneously, they blurted out. "This can't be happening."

They both collapsed into their seats, letting go of the tension between them for the time being. There was a quiet, neutral silence, though it was a friendlier sort of neutrality than Switzerland's. The requirement of being hostile towards each other as enemies was ignored.

England spoke quietly. "Time-travel. What a bloody curse. I was probably drunk when I cast that spell."

"I agree with you on that one." Germany assented with a heavy sigh. "This future world is... twisted."

The island nation recovered a bit of volume with his next reply. "I'll say! Nuculer weapons, this Soviet Union, all of it! What the h*ll happened?"

"World War Two, apparently." Was the wry response from Germany. "And knowing us and our neighbors, we can probably blame Europe for that."

"What about Japan? He's going to be involved too."

Germany shot back. "What about America?"

"..."

"..."

Silence fell again.

And then, opening up his feelings to the enemy, England confessed. "I don't know what to think about him. That bombing that's going to happen to Japan... And this Cold War. The brat's not even two centuries old, and he's going to be fighting Russia for the world."

"The Soviet Union, not Russia." Germany corrected. Then, he remembered something. "How much longer do you think we have before... we go back home and forget?"

England replied. "I'd say between ten and half and eleven hours."

"A while yet..." Germany muttered to himself tiredly. "But pointless in the end." He sighed.

"Say, old chap..." England went off on a sensitive tangent. He quietly asked. "What do you think of these nuculer things?"

Germany responded carefully. "First off, it's 'nuclear' not 'nuculer'. And... I believe that they never should have been invented."

"But, it's a sort of deterrent, isn't it?" England refuted, though he himself was uncertain. "If everyone had a few, no one would ever go to war."

Germany scoffed. "Some said the same about aeroplanes when those Wright brothers invented them. And look at what we're using them for now."

An ironic grimace grew on England's face. "Sadly true... Though, right now, it's 1962. We're using them for war back home in 1916."

"What do you think they're using them for now then, _Britannien_?"

England paused and gave it a few moments of consideration. Then, he replied factually. "Still war, probably."

"... _Sie richtig_."

England asked. "What does that mean?"

"You're right." Germany answered. Then, he went on. "It's war, war and more war, isn't it? That's what we have to look forward to. _This _is what we have to look forward to."

"There could be a brighter side." England replied. "You heard America say that the missile crisis is over. Perhaps things will get better."

Germany grunted negatively. "That's likely what we're all going to think after the Great War. And then we'll have the second one on our hands. And at the end of that, it will be the _gottverdammte_ Cold War with those _gottverdammte_ nuclear weapons."

That dampened the mood quite a bit. Thoughts of history and the present and the future ran laps through both of their heads. It really seemed to be war, war, and more war. The world didn't have peace. And would it ever have peace? Human nature seemed to be dead set against it. The world was dead set against it. The world didn't want peace, and how could anything ever change when it had been this way since anyone ever knew? When they, the nations themselves, had always been this way?

"Would the world be better off..." England struggled to complete the thought.

Germany did it for him gloomily and factually. "Without us? Without governments and nations starting wars and massacres?"

There was a moment of quiet consideration and condemnation for both of them.

England spoke first. "Yes, bloody h*ll, yes. It would."

"I think you're right..." Germany agreed softly.

The island nation replied with a wry, bitter smile. "But it's impossible. We're not going anywhere, are we?"

"_Nein._ We're not."

A third voice interjected. "But we can change."

Both European nations whipped their heads around to see America standing at the door. He looked weary, and frightened, and more stressed with responsibility than any nation his age should've been. But he was still America, and that meant he was still hopeful, and idealist, and determined to see the impossible made possible.

He continued. "We can change to make the world better off with us." He stepped closer and pleaded with them. "So far, I've only told you all the worst stuff... But there's a lot to hope for today too! Lots of things've changed for the better since World War One, I can tell you! There's been good and bad, and I'll tell you everything. If... Are you guys willing to listen?"

From England and Germany's perspectives, seeing America so soon after the encounter with Russia and the shocking revelation it brought was strange. But they'd recovered from their initial surprise, and their curiosity about the world in the future was still boundless.

They nodded.

America's face brightened like a sunrise, and the young man jumped over the back of the couch with a running start. He landed between Germany and England with a _whump!_ on the cushion, bouncing a few times before settling down. "This is great!" He exclaimed, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. "Oh, where should I start... I know!"

So he rambled off to the two curious nations that made up his audience.

They were drawn into a dramatic retelling of the Paris Peace Conference after the first World War (which was skirted around to avoid tension between the time-travellers), and a heartfelt exposition and reiteration of America's President Wilson's famous Fourteen Points for Peace at the conference. They were amazed by the establishment of the League of Nations, and the very idea of an international organization dedicated to world peace. The Great Depression was skimmed over with a grimace. Then, they listened in horror and dread as the history of World War Two was told, and they gasped at the atrocities committed during the worldwide conflict. They were fascinated by the formation of the United Nations (which America revealed the personifications themselves had a version of), but were doubtful that it could succeed.

Germany expressed great sorrow at the many grievances he would cause during the second World War. England was affronted and offended by the process of ongoing de-colonization, and in sputtering fit of anger blamed America for it, which made all three of them laugh. Both Europeans then listened with a quiet dread and uneasiness as they were told of the beginnings of the Eastern Bloc and the first 'battles' of the Cold War.

They were enraged by the Berlin Blockade, and enraptured by the inspirational story of the subsequent Berlin Airlift and the candy bombers. The cooperation and effort put into the airlift and 'Operation Little Vittles' showed the best of human nature and expressed a new hope that someday the world could have true peace. It warmed the hearts of the two warring nations.

The small smiles brought to England and Germany's faces by the tale of the Berlin Airlift morphed into slight grimaces and stern lines as America went on with his retelling of recent history. They both approved of NATO, and then they both criticized Radio Free Europe, or Radio Liberty as America liked to call it, as propaganda, even if it was good propaganda. America retorted that the Cold War was a _war_ of propaganda, earning him derision from England. But then, America pointed out that the U.K. had joined in the Radio Liberty effort, and England had swapped sides, leaving Germany to surrender his argument with exasperated amusement. He even waved a small white flag as a joke, making his two companions laugh. They had to admit they were beginning to enjoy their time together.

Both Europeans were worried by the events and consequences of the Chinese Civil War as the story of the world continued. They were equally outraged by Russia's hand in the Korean War, and expressed support for and approval of the UN Task Force sent to aid South Korea in stopping the invasion against him. The UN earned a great deal of respect and improved opinion from England and Germany for that.

The lighter, slightly rebellious mood was then unfortunately dissipated. Hearing of the Warsaw Pact, uneasiness and fear claimed the atmosphere again, planting a flag in the dust. Then, the two listeners, Germany especially, were absolutely infuriated by the Berlin Ultimatum, cursing the gall Russia had to make it, and not appeased by its rejection. Their feelings of resentment were only furthered by what America told them China said about Russia "squeezing Berlin as the heart of the West" after the Sino-Soviet Split.

What fascinated and amazed the European nations the most, however, despite its origin in the nuclear arms competition, was the Space Race. They harbored no ill-will towards the ongoing contest in spaceflight supremacy. It was just too interesting. The launch of the race, the Soviet success of _Sputnik 1_, astonished them, but not nearly as much as _Vostok 1 _carrying Yuri Garagin into space as the first cosmonaut. Even America, as rival to the Soviet Union, couldn't gather any resentment against the incredible feat.

However, despite all the many events that had happened between what Germany and England knew as modern day and 1962, the long story had to draw to a close. They could feel it tapering off, even as America joyfully shouted a mis-quoted rendition of his President Kennedy's "We choose to go to the moon" speech.

And then, he told them of the Berlin Wall.

"The East German government built a wall through Berlin. It's meant to stop people from moving over to the West side."

Germany protested stubbornly. "_Mein Bruder_ would never - "

America cut him off. "Did I ever say it was Prussia who wanted it built?"

"But..." England interjected with an expression of dread. "Then, you mean it was the Soviet Union who put up this Berlin Wall? That they have such control over Prussia's government?"

In reply came a solemn nod, and clarification. "Yup. But... to be fair, I don't think the Baltic dudes or Ukraine really wanted it. Russia's the only one behind a lot of this Soviet stuff."

There came a cold silence.

Germany changed the topic. "You were shouting about the Cuban Missile Crisis just a little while ago. How has that ended?"

The mood brightened as a wide grin made its way across America's face. "It's great! No nuclear war, and tension's gone down a whole lot! The missiles are gonna be taken from Cuba, and I'm ending the blockade!" Then, he whispered a piece of gossip to them. "But, I'm also disarming my nukes in Italy and Turkey. It's secret though. Nuclear _dis_arming is the new hot topic! Things are looking up again!"

"Perhaps..." England began, looking thoughtful with his chin cupped in his hands. "Perhaps the world really _can_ change after all."

Despite his general, down-to-Earth demeanor, Germany seemed to have the same high hope. He quietly agreed. "It seems... That in the future... war is not the only choice after all."

There came a new silence, but one light and hopeful for brighter days to come, one more amicable and friendly than before.

England then asked a question that brought up the uncertain future. "America... If this Cold War doesn't end up destroying the world, and you somehow _win _if a cold war can be won... What are you going to do with the Soviet Union?"

"Uh..." America seemed surprised by the question. He hadn't put too much thought to it actually.

Germany threw in his own two military cents. "They are communist, and they are your enemies, correct? I would take them as territory and install your government as theirs, replacing the regime. Take control."

"What?!" America's eyes widened in shock. He was astonished and slightly horrified by the idea. "B-but- That's just-"

England argued against Germany's idea. "Stupid. Not thought through at all. He might be an American idiot, but he has more sense than that. Doing something so imperial in such a large region would only lead to bloody revolution, _losing_ any semblance of control he would've had before."

"No! I wouldn't-"

"Oh, you would know." Germany shot back at the island nation. He and England might not be enemies in 1962, but as far as the two of them were concerned, they might as well have been back home in 1916.

Taking offense at the cheap shot, England argued. "I _would_ know! And that's why I'm saying America should put the Soviet Union under marshal law instead! Curfews, regulations, and rules set in place until all traces of Soviet influence are stamped out. Perhaps with some international aid from this future United Nations, or allies like my future self. And then with enough time and propaganda, people might _vote _to become states."

"But-" America remained ignored as England and Germany kept debating.

The German gave England little ground. "Well, lets not forget the new nuclear weaponry! Without conquering the Soviet Union, they'll have that technology at their disposal and fight back! America should either annex the territory or confiscate the weapons of mass destruction, claiming them as his own."

"I-"

England rebuked angrily. "That would still spark revolution in the Soviet Union! Not to mention the _rest_ of the world! Have you given any thought to what everyone would think if America annexed Russia or added Soviet missiles to his own ammunition? Or, god forbid, _both_?! It'd be Rome all over again to them and our future selves!"

And then the debate dissolved into a heated and childish rivalry between past European powers.

"How would you know? You barely even existed when the Great Roman Empire was around!"

"Pot calling the kettle black! You didn't exist at all, git!"

"_Nein_, but I have proper respect for a great empire like Rome!"

"Your _respect _is a lame attempt at copying him and conquering Europe! That's supposed to be _my_ job!"

"At least I'm not going to be _decolonized!_"

"That's below the belt, you sodding imperialist wanker!"

"Oh, look who's talking! _You_ can hardly be calling me imperialist! _You're_ an empire!"

America looked back and forth at the countries on either side of him, shouting over his head. They were right up in each other's faces. He had a feeling that he should stop them from fighting, but then he remembered that neither of them would remember their spat anyway. So instead, he sat back and watched the show.

"So are you and your brother! Along with Austria and Hungary!"

"Pirate _müll_!"

"Nazi scum!"

"World War Two hasn't happened to us yet!"

"You're still a Nazi!"

"Pirate!"

"Nazi!"

"Pirate!"

America came to a realization while watching the time-travellers wage an infantile verbal war. _'This must be what the rest of the UN feels like when me and Russky go at it.'_

"Nazi!" England accused again.

"Pirate!" Germany retorted.

"Nazi!"

"At least I didn't lose to my own colony while at the height of my power!"

"Well, my colony became a powerful country, so HAH!" Then England remembered the original topic of debate. "And I still say that marshal law and propaganda is the way to go! It's _modern._"

"Other, very power-hungry nations will just swoop in and claim the spoils if America treats the Soviet Union that softly!" Germany countered. "Conquer and annex!"

England argued back. "Propaganda empire!"

"Conquer and annex!"

And at that point, America was getting offended. He decided to intervene. "HOLD IT!" He shouted, shoving the two Europeans back to their far ends of the couch. Germany landed on the cushion backside first, but England, being shorter and lighter, hit the arm of the couch and then tumbled over it backwards onto the floor. The Brit stood up and grudgingly took his seat with a glare directed at everybody.

America made his own decision on the topic of discussion. "If I win the Cold War- no, _when _I win it... I'm not going to do any of that garbage to the Soviet Union. I'll give the Baltics and anyone else who wants it their independence, if they don't take it for themselves first. Then the Soviets can keep their nukes, and I'll keep mine, and we'll talk about disarming. I'll just change their form of government. Empires can die out like they're meant to. Me and Russia won't keep paralyzing the UN. The world can move on towards something better."

"That..." England spoke softly in consideration. "That's actually a nice sentiment."

Germany let go of his side of the debate too. He swallowed his pride. "Yes... I forget this isn't our time. Things are different now, half a century later."

Then, England opened his mouth wide and let out a great yawn. "A-ahhh..."

"Huh?" America looked at England stretching after his yawn and Germany rubbing his eyes, and then face-palmed. "Oh, right! You guys probably just came from war zones. I've got lots of spare rooms, c'mon-"

"No, no, no." England protested weakly. "Not going to sleep. It's a - *yawn* - complete waste of opportunity. This is the future, for christ's sake!"

Germany was of an opposing opinion. "I say we get a few hours of rest. We're not going to remember this anyway... But I want a little sleep, and I want to enjoy a little war-free time after that if I can."

England grudgingly caved in. "Alright... I suppose that's a bed suggestion. No, I mean, good suggestion." His cheeks flushed, embarrassed at the sleep-deprived slip-up. Then, he asked. "How much time do we have left anyhow?"

"Lemme check." America pulled out the pocket watch again. A quick glimpse revealed the answer. "Eight and a half hours. Wow, time sure flew by..."

England grabbed Germany's arm and yanked the man forward a step. He said to America. "Alright then, take us to the guest quarters, m'boy."

"And wake us up when there are four hours left." Germany added, twisting England's hand off of his arm a little rougher than strictly necessary.

America smiled at the thought of getting another chance at being friends with the nations out of time, and heartily exclaimed. "Just follow me!"

He led them out of the living room.

As the door was shut behind them, Germany cracked a joke. "I hope you have a better sense of direction than Austria."

England added onto it. "It's hard not to."

"Uh..." America was unsure of how to reply to the Europeans. "Which Europe dude is Austria again?"

* * *

_October 28th, 1962 - 4 hours and 2 minutes remaining of time-travel spell_

In a short, plainly decorated hallway somewhere in the back of America's house, there were several guest rooms. They lacked much decoration or personality, and contained only bare necessities, such as a bed and nightstand, and a dresser if whoever happened to be staying planned on being there for a while. Two of these guest rooms were occupied.

_Bam! Crash! Brr-brrrrp! Bam! Brr-brrrp! Crash! Toot-Whooooot!_

A cacophony of noise awoke the sleeping people inside. Two European countries simultaneously startled to consciousness and fell off their borrowed beds in a tangle of flailing limbs and blankets. It took a few moments for either of them to remember where and when they were, and when they did, they stomped to their doors and slammed them open.

_Bang!_

The doors smacked into the wall at the same time.

"Sod off, wanker, what are-"

"_Dummkopf _America, that noise is-"

Neither of them ever finished their sentences.

Instead, their mouths hung open and their eyes widened at the absolutely ridiculous spectacle that America had made of himself in the hallway. He had somehow found a one-man marching band set. The kind with the big, bass drum on a harness, a cymbal mechanism attached to the foot, and somehow, a steam whistle. And he also had a trumpet.

_Br-br-brrp!_

He played an off-key bugle call on the brass instrument.

"Hiya!" He smiled at them. "Welcome to your wake-up call!"

Germany silently gaped. "..."

"... Where did you even manage to find a steam whistle?" Was all England could manage to say.

America shrugged nonchalantly and hurriedly undid all the straps of the strange contraption, tossing it into a closet with a crash. He didn't seem to care much for it however, changing the topic to something slightly more normal.

"Anyone want a snack?"

* * *

_October 28th, 1962 - 3 hours and 45 minutes remaining of time-travel spell._

America's idea of a snack turned out to be what the rest of the world might've called a full meal covered in batter and then fried in grease. But England and Germany had eaten it anyway out of courtesy, and during the time it took to scarf down the oily food, the two guests had come to a decision on what to do next. Go outside. They'd been indoors the entire time thus far, and more than anything else at the moment they wanted to see the world. Despite what America told them of being a while away from major population centers, and thus away from any major changes, they were curious.

That's how the three wound up sitting on America's front porch, with the two Europeans listening raptly to America explaining the automotive industry's growth, new brands and companies, and how incredibly common it was to see station wagons. It had led to a conversation about advances in everyday technology, some of which completely amazed England and Germany.

They decided to move to the backyard, which was rather large and contained a storage shed.

"Anyone wanna play catch?" America asked, digging a baseball and catcher's mitt out from the shed.

England immediately declined with a slightly disgusted shake of the head. "I'd rather not."

"Aww, c'mon Britain!" America whined. "We've only got like three and a half hours left and I wanna do something fun!"

The island nation would not change his mind. "I tried it once, and that's enough."

"Are you really still hung up about that time I visited you and France-y pants in '08?" America asked exasperatedly.

England pointed out. "It might've been over half a century since that disaster of 'bonding' for you, but it hasn't been even a decade for me. _France_ witnessed that!"

"It was one throw! And you caught it!"

"I'd still rather not repeat the experience. Especially with an audience."

Germany, quickly growing tired of their back-and-forth arguing, said. "If it'll get you two to shut up, I'll play."

England snorted, snickering in Germany's direction even as America skipped up to them cheering. "Hooray!"

And so Germany was given a baseball mitt, which his hand was actually almost too large for, and England scooted off to the sidelines to enjoy the show. America stood about ten meters away, baseball in hand. Germany would've been a little bored playing a child's game, but the way England kept snickering and the half-pitying half-mocking looks sent his way had the German on edge. It was like he expected Germany to get shot. But really, could he possibly get hurt in playing a game of catch? As Canada knew well, the answer was; YES.

"Here it comes!" America exclaimed joyfully.

The young nation wound up for a curved pitch, and whipped the shot, sending the ball flying towards Germany at nearly super-sonic speeds.

_Bam!_

By quick instinct and a bit of luck, Germany had his arm up above his head, positioned to catch the ball. He did catch it. And it hit. HARD. Germany toppled over backwards, dragged by the hand like he'd caught a bullet rather than a ball. Even with the glove as a cushion, his palm and fingers felt numb with shock and possibly broken, though he knew that wasn't very likely.

"Oompf!" Germany hit the ground. "Ah..." He sat up, spine creaking with noises that he didn't like the sound of, and passed the baseball to his other hand. He took off the catcher's mitt and flexed stinging, red fingers.

"Gwahahaha!" England was doubled over with laughter, pointing and teasing with the maturity and mentality a fifth-grade boy. "Got what you deserved, eh, Germany? Gwahaha!"

Germany closed his eyes, wincing at a pain in his hip, and then was unexpectedly pulled to his feet by a strong grip. He opened his eyes again to see America letting go of his wrist and taking the ball from his hand with a wide, happy grin, bouncing on his heels.

"You'd make a good baseman in baseball! That was a great catch, dude!" He exclaimed eagerly. "Wanna try again?"

"Erk..." Germany blanched. "I... would rather... Er, that is..."

To his great surprise, England came to his rescue. "We'd rather hear some more stories." The Brit walked over and put an arm around Germany's shoulder amicably. Like they were old friends.

"Really?" America looked just as eager to share tales of the recent past as he was to launch ballistics at Germany. "Awesome dudes! Wha'dya wanna hear?"

England suddenly dry-coughed. "...Actually, could we step back inside for a drink first? I'm feeling a little parched and-"

"We've still got that lemonade!" America shouted happily, he ran around the side of the house, presumably to go grab the pitcher.

When their host had disappeared from view, Germany sighed in relief and then gratefully, if grudgingly, thanked England. "Thank you, I suppose... England."

"Oh, shut up!" England abruptly removed his arm from around Germany's shoulders and turned away with a huff. His face was tinged slightly red. Flustered, he spat out an acid reply. "I didn't do it for_ you_ or- or anything like that! It's not like we're friends! W-we're enemies, remember?"

Germany was good at reading between the lines, and he could see what England really meant. He smiled a friendly, non-antagonizing smile. Like they really were old friends. "_Danke_, England." He paused, looking back at the house where America had run back to. The American wasn't coming back yet. Germany turned to England again, and quietly, he said. "Perhaps... Someday, we _could_ be friends."

England was glad he was already facing away from Germany. He didn't need his wartime enemy to see his shocked, wide-eyed expression. _'Keep a stiff upper lip.'_ He told himself. But, nonetheless, he found himself slowly turning to look at his companion, who, by then, was looking away again. _'But... not being enemies could be nice. If we were at peace. But we're not... and looking at this future world, I'm not certain we ever will be.'_

Just then, America came running back with the same tray of glasses and lemonade as earlier, trying his best to balance it while running.

"Hey, guys!" He shouted, coming up to them. "I got the lemonade!"

England's annoyed expression returned. "Tch. Took you long enough, git!"

"Aww, c'mon Iggy!"

The usual banter took place as Germany carefully took the tray from America, gently setting it on the ground and then pouring glasses of lemonade for each of them. Everyone took their own, and sat in the grass cross-legged. America chugged half of his glass in one go, while England took light sips of the sweet-sour drink, and Germany left his untouched for the moment.

America asked. "So, what'd you guys want to hear about?"

England answered with an unusual sensitivity. "It's a question I've been meaning to ask since discovering it's _you_ who's fighting Russia."

Germany's interest in the topic piqued.

"Well, what is it?" America questioned.

England replied softly. "America... How do you feel about your circumstances today?"

America responded loudly and arrogantly, as always. "I'm totally AWESOME! On top of the world here, remember? The Hero's beating back the commies and saving the world! HAHA-HAHA-HAHA!" He flopped back onto the grass, laying down flat and looking up at the few clouds in the sunny blue sky. He fist-pumped. "U-S-A~!"

Upon hearing the stereotypical response, Germany was about to mutter something along the lines of. "Of course..." But before he could speak, England took command.

"America." He said sternly. "I want the real answer... How do you feel about this?"

The bright, Hollywood smile fell off his face like a piano out of the sky - fast, and with a big crash. His eyes turned sad. The young nation suddenly looked every single one of his years and more.

"A-America?" Germany couldn't tie the image of this sad, lonely young man with the optimistic, oblivious America he knew.

"I don't want to talk about it..." America trailed off.

Then, England set his drink down and flopped onto the ground like America had. Germany did the same, though he felt a bit odd about it and laid there more stiffly than the other two. From a bird's eye view, they made a sort of circle with their heads in the middle, and if lines connected their feet it would've been a perfect triangle.

England spoke. "I think you do want to talk about it."

"No, I don't." America replied in a strangled voice.

The Brit said. "Yes, you do... You just haven't been able to since... what was the date? August 9th, 1945."

"Nagasaki. The day the second World War will end... ended." Germany remembered. He came to a realization which England would voice.

Silence.

England pressed on. "You haven't been able to talk to anyone since then. The order of the world changed. The Soviet Union started expanding their form of government, and there you were the only one left with the ability to stop it. You've had to keep a strong face for the sake of the world, and the only equal you could speak with was suddenly your enemy. You're lost, and alone, and confused... And you blame us... don't you?"

America replied with heavy emotion. "Yeah... You got it right."

"Well forget that for a while, would you?" England snapped, an admonishing glare on his face. "Here we are, me and Germany from World War One. You can speak to us, we can empathize, and we won't even remember it to use against you."

Germany grunted. "You_ dummkopf_, just say something already. We are listening."

"... A-alright." America was surprised by the strange intervention, but he appreciated it. Where to begin... "I... Well, first off, Iggy's right about everything he just said about me. But, from the beginning..."

He told them about a bit of history they already knew. The Spanish-American War for Cuba and several other Spanish territories in the western hemisphere. About how what had started as sympathy for Cuba turned into a greater conflict leading to the defeat and collapse of Spain's empire. And how that had suddenly put America on the world stage.

He told them of the reasoning behind his original choice of neutrality in the Great War. Of not wanting to draw more international attention to himself, and opting for peace negotiations. Of being prodded to take the side of the Allies, and becoming more and more uncertain that neutrality was the right decision for the good of the world. Of changing his mind because it suddenly wasn't just another European war. It was a World War, and he joined the Allies right around the time Russia pulled out because of his civil war.

He told them about his fear of becoming involved in European affairs, even after he suggested the League of Nations, because the first World War had been so awful. About his policy of happy isolationism until World War Two had drawn him in once again. About the Manhattan Project, which Canada and England supported. About wanting the war to end more than anything else, and _using_ the nuclear bombs on Japan to bring it to a close at last. About regretting that decision. And about what his world was like after.

"After Japan surrendered..." America's eyes stayed open to the sky, but weren't seeing the clouds at all. He was lost in his own, personal memories of history, not the version that everyone knew.

"Right after World War Two ended and the dust cleared... I looked around myself... and I didn't see anyone next to me. I looked around myself, and I didn't see peace. I looked around myself, and all I saw was fear. I didn't like it. Then, a little while after the Cold War started, when Russia showed up one day with his own nukes, I thought maybe now that there was someone next to me... all the tension might clear up. I thought we might stop fighting, but it turned out to be the opposite."

He shook his head sadly. "Now, half the world's against me, and the other half's hiding behind me or asking me for help. It was all so fast I don't know when I went from being America the new kid who doesn't want to be like Europe to America the only superpower besides the Soviet Union."

America didn't say anymore for a few moments, and Germany took that as a sign that he was finished. "Perhaps you never stopped being that child."

"I..." America thought about it. He regretfully and wistfully said. "I guess I never did. But I can't be again, can I?"

England took the opportunity to speak. "That's nonsense! Who says you can't?"

"You." America shrugged. "Just last week, actually."

"Ah..." England's cheeks flushed red, embarrassed. But then, he cleared his throat and continued nonetheless. "Ah-hem. Well, don't listen to someone who doesn't know your side of the story. Personally, I don't see why you can't be a world leader and be yourself at the same time. I did at the height of my power."

"..." Germany looked at England oddly, seemingly re-evaluating the nation in his head.

America did the same, but he voiced his thoughts aloud. "You were being yourself when you were a pirate?"

England realized how that sounded, and sputtered. "I- I didn't mean _that_! I was confident, and... suave, and..."

"A pirate?" Germany interjected with a snort.

"Oh, forget it." England muttered irritably.

Germany replied flatly. "I will. In less than three hours."

England blinked once and furrowed his brows in confusion. Then, he remembered. "Oh... yes, I'd almost for- not realized it."

America returned to the previous topic. "So, what were you saying before?"

"Ah, right." England continued. "Just be yourself, m'boy. You can still win this war without being someone else. Just don't hold back."

Germany then sternly advised. "Don't forget yourself either, America. You described yourself as the child who doesn't want to be like Europe." The German's eyes were weighted with experience and the knowledge of his days to come. Sadly, and with great regret for his past and his future, he finished speaking. "Remember that, America. Don't be like us."

On that note, both England and Germany were done giving their advice. Neither spoke again for a while.

And then, America murmured a heartfelt message. "Thanks, guys... I... I really appreciate it. I feel better about this than I have in a long time. You're... good friends."

No one made a sound for a long time. All three of them, there, in that grassy backyard on a sunny day with a good wind blowing through, just relaxed and enjoyed the time they had together. As friends. Not as enemies. Not as strangers. Not even as nations. As friends. They smiled, quiet, content smiles there at the time. At ease. At rest. And though they all knew it wouldn't last, that the next time any of them met they wouldn't be the same... They were happy? No, that's not the word for it. They were content? That wouldn't be quite right either... At peace. That's what they were. They were at peace.

"You know..." America broke the silence with a small laugh. "Haha. For enemies, you guys aren't very good... well, enemies."

England replied. "Oh, shut it, you git. You're ruining the mood."

"Ahahaha~!" America laughed, but willingly complied after that.

For a long, long time... They simply remained as they were, watching the clouds drift idly by in the sky. Those puffy, white collections of water vapor were always moving, never in one spot. And they were always changing as they did so, morphing, growing, shrinking, becoming one with other clouds, separating from other clouds... But they were always there. Made up of the same stuff as all the others. It was symbolic of time passing, and of timelessness. And of much more than that as well.

But despite the peaceful, unending nature of the atmosphere, they were always reminded.

"We don't have much time left, do we?" Germany was the one to voice what they all knew to be true.

America reached into his jacket pocket slowly, as if prolonging the action might give them more time. He pulled out the watch, with its open face still refusing to the clasped shut. And with a glance at the time it read...

"Ten minutes..." America said. He didn't put the pocket watch back, keeping it in his hand. He sat up and burst out nervously laughing. "HAHA-HAHA! Time sure flies by!" He stood up.

Germany and England got up too. They turned to position themselves next to each other, facing America with the watch in his hand.

"This is going to be goodbye, I suppose." England began formally. "You'll never see me with these memories again."

"Me neither." Germany said in a similar stiff manner. "Farewell to you and our memories."

In the silence that followed those words, there was only the soft ticking of a pocket watch.

America's expression was one of sadness, and a dread of loneliness. He said. "I never planned on making friends with you guys... But now I don't want you to forget."

"I don't want to forget either." England admitted quietly.

Germany agreed. "None of us do. But it has to happen."

"Maybe not for forever." England muttered. He held a hand out to America. "Let me see that."

America handed over the old-fashioned timekeeper of England's future making, and England of the past looked it up and down, turning it over in his hands repeatedly. He examined the intricate carving of circles and lines on the cover, which he knew to be the ancient language of Gallifreyan. He watched the three hands tick closer and closer to to twelve, knowing that when they met, the past twelve hours might as well have not happened at all. America would be the only one to remember, and that would only be twelve hours for him to mourn the loss of. England tapped on the clasp, and a relieved smile lit up his face when a blue glow illuminated the lines on the carving for a moment, and then rearranged them.

"Brilliant!" He exclaimed. "I've altered the memory spell. It will still have to take our memories, but it'll keep them locked away inside - Then, when it's opened again, both my future self and Germany's will remember!"

"Really?" Germany was pleasantly surprised. Impressed and relieved at the same time, he yelled out. "That's _wunderbar_! America can just open the watch right after we go back, and our future selves will know all this again!"

America was the only one of the three to be against the idea. "_No!_" He vetoed it loudly.

"Hah?" Germany was confused by the American's reaction.

England was too, and protested. "What are you saying, America? Once you open the watch, our future selves will have their memories back! You won't be so lonely anymore, and we'll remember! Our friendship here won't be forgotten!"

"I'm not gonna open this!" America ripped the pocket watch away from England, vehemently shaking his head. "I can't do that to you guys!"

"What do you mean?" Germany asked.

America said to both time travelers. "Don't you remember everything I told you happened between World War One and now? It might not be real for you guys yet, but it's your _lives_ in the future! The England and Germany I know here in 1962 are still torn up over it all, and will be for a long, _long_ time! If you remember finding out about all this... It'll drive you _insane_ knowing that you _knew_ it was gonna happen!"

His voice grew in volume and he began shouting. "Trench warfare! The Great Depression! World War Two! Hitler! The Holocaust! Hiroshima and Nagasaki! Berlin! All of it! It's already going to eat away at all of us until the day we have real peace... If you guys remembered that you _knew_ about it all before, you'd go over the edge! I'll be alone at the top with Russia, I'll make all my stupid mistakes, but I _won't _do that to you guys!"

England and Germany were speechless. They had never even considered...

_Tick tick tick tick tick tick..._

The sound of the watch was getting louder. Time was running out. There was little over a minute left.

"Hm-hm. Hahaha..."

"Ahaha..."

England and Germany... seemed to be laughing.

"The h*ll's wrong with you guys? What's funny about this?!" America held the watch tightly, shouting at his friends anxiously.

The two time travelers stood still where they were. Though with the watch beginning to glow and they themselves caught in its web of magic, they weren't capable of moving anywhere in the first place.

Germany chuckled heartily and wearily. "Ha ha ha..." He looked America in the eye, a true smile on his face, and even as he was beginning to fade away, slowly growing more and more transparent, he said. "Remember what I told you? To not be like us?" He chuckled again, shaking his head. "I don't think you're going to have any problems with that."

England, likewise frozen in place and becoming less tangible, smiled a sad, open smile as he met ex-colony's determined gaze and said. "America... someday, you're going to find yourself truly on top of the world... You'll cause a few problems, you'll fix a few problems, and everyone will blame you for everything. You'll be the world leader... and I don't think you'll be half-bad at it. You'll do better than us."

"W-what?" America relaxed his grip on the watch in his anxiousness, letting it rest open on the flat of his palm. He took a glance at it, and was sad to see the seconds ticking by so quickly. He looked back to his leaving guests. "This is your goodbye?"

"No." Germany said, his serious gaze meeting America's despairing one. He smiled. "This is our 'See you later'."

"America!" England exclaimed brightly, even as he and Germany were fading more and more by the second. "Make us a promise!"

Germany started it. "Promise us that the day wars aren't fought..."

"The day we nations are all family to each other..." England continued.

"The day no one is oppressed..."

"The day everyone cares..."

"The day we learn to let go of the past..."

England fought through the haze beginning to cloud his mind and exclaimed. "America! Promise us that the day you look around yourself and see the world at peace... Promise us... you'll open that watch!"

Germany was beginning to lose his thoughts, but he found that he had the willpower to finish. "Promise us you will! Open it... so that we can remember... and so we can look around ourselves... and say... "The world finally did it."... Wouldn't that... be something?..."

At that point, they both finally faded away. Small lights, like dozens of fireflies, flew from where they'd stood a moment ago and into the pocket watch in America's hand. And then, the watch snapped itself closed.

* * *

_1919 - Paris Peace Conference_

Germany was slumped over on a bench in Paris, the Eiffel Tower lighting up the night behind him. He sighed, world-weary.

_Tap tap tap tap..._

Footsteps coming from the right. Germany looked up to see England swaggering towards him with a smirk on his face. The Brit came right up to him and leaned on the arm of the bench, a smug smile adorning his face.

"Hello, Germany." He sneered. "Enjoying the Conference so far?"

"None of your business." Germany replied bitterly.

England sarcastically apologized. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to pry into your affairs - Oh wait, yes I did." He laughed. "Hahaha! You lost the war, Germany. What's coming just serves you right!"

Germany snapped. "Would you stop rubbing it in already? I know I lost! It hurts because... I don't know... What's going to happen tomorrow if this is today?" He shook his head sadly.

The words were a bit of deja vu for England, and they made him realize how painful it was for Germany. "Oh... sorry, for real this time. But things are looking up, really. The League of Nations that America suggested could work, and someday you can join it. It'll make things better for all of Europe."

"I thought you were skeptical." Germany said.

"Oh, I assure you I am." England grimaced. "It's something never done before... and with all our bloody history, it seems doomed to fail. But... somehow, I feel like it will succeed better than anyone expects."

Germany nodded.

* * *

_August 10th, 1945 - Paris, France_

In a hospital bed, Japan was bandaged up and in a hospital gown. The island nation's wounds were still bleeding through the wrappings. It was said they would for a while. He was unconscious, thank god, unaware of what was happening around him, having collapsed right after signing the official surrender. Germany and Italy sat on stools next to his prone form, looking at their suffering friend sadly.

"Somehow..." Germany shook his head. "I feel like this was always coming."

"Oh, don't-a say that, Germany!" Italy exclaimed, putting a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "It's not your fault! You didn't drop-a the bombs!"

_Chhk._

The door of the private hospital room was slid open. Germany kept his eyes on Japan's pale face, but Italy looked up, froze, and then ran out the door as fast as his fleeing feet could carry him. Germany didn't need to look up to see who it was that had arrived.

"Hello, America." The German greeted.

"Hi..." The Allied nation replied quietly.

America hesitantly came closer to the hospital bed, and set a bouquet of flowers in the blue vase on the nightstand. Germany glanced at them and saw a collection of daisies, violets, and wildflowers that had probably been picked out of a field.

"Nice flowers." Germany said awkwardly.

"Uh, yeah. For Japan." America replied.

They were both silent for a few moments, looking on at Japan's bloody, battered, and bandaged form.

Germany suddenly asked. "Do you regret it?"

"It ended the war."

"That's not an answer."

"... I know."

* * *

_August 10th, 1961 - Berlin_

"West!" Prussia called out, waving to his brother.

"Prussia!" Germany ran towards the albino, sweeping him into a tight embrace. "_Bruder_, it's been a long while."

Prussia nodded. "Yes. And I hate living with unawesome Russia. But I'm glad I get to see you, even if we only can here in Berlin."

"Russia isn't." Germany muttered.

"Tch." Prussia, as nonchalant as ever, waved it off. "What's he gonna do? Build a wall?"

"He just might." Germany mumbled, but then, he realized how ridiculous that was. "No, that's impossible. It's going too far to do anything like that. The other Allies wouldn't stand for it."

Prussia, being uncharacteristically serious, reminded him. "The other Allies don't have the power to stop him."

"Not quite..." Germany responded, thoughtful. "There's America..."

"And there's the Soviet Union." Prussia finished. "But they can't mess with each other directly."

"It's MAD..." Germany sighed.

Prussia responded. "It's unawesomely mad!"

Germany clarified. "No, I mean it's MAD. M-A-D. Mutually Assured Destruction."

"Where'd that come from?"

"... I don't know."

* * *

_Present day_

America slumped on his couch, feet up on the coffee table and the TV remote next to him. The television was on, playing a cartoon of some sort, but America wasn't paying any attention to it. He was focused on the thing he held in his hand.

It was a silver, circular pocket watch. Closed, as always. The cover inscribed with lines and circles and the clasp tightly shut.

America knew what was inside that watch, and he knew what he had promised. He knew what the world's current situation was like, and he knew he could be blamed for a lot, even if he'd fixed a few things too. He knew that peace was far away, even if it was closer than ever before.

And he knew he was looking forward to the day he could flip open that watch.

Because someday, he knew, they really would look around themselves and say... The world finally did it.


End file.
